


The Kids Aren't Alright

by Third_Route



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Game(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychology, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Third_Route/pseuds/Third_Route
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of their traumatic night, seven friends struggle to pick up the pieces in a world that doesn't seem their own anymore. When a lost friend returns to them, he brings a darkness back with him. And it begins to feel like they'll never escape the shadow of the mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survivors

_Sam_

_Police Station_

_08:04_

Though the rescue copters had lifted them from the mountain, their brief moment of reprieve was effectively interrupted upon landing. They were taken to the police station and guided inside. Wind rushed as the copter blades spun, slowly dying as they built to a stop.

“Wait, some of us are injured,” Sam protested.

A ranger had her by the elbow. She guided her gently with a firm grip. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you treatment.” The station doors were getting closer. Sam looked back as far as her neck would turn. Mike wrenched his arm free of a ranger’s hold, opting to follow of his own free will. Emily snapped in complaint when an officer touched her shoulder. Chris staggered along on his injured leg. Ashley allowed herself to be led, looking dazedly forward with glassy eyes, large and wide as though stuck like that. Still no sign of Matt and Jess.

And Josh. Sam turned back around. She didn’t know about the others, but Josh was dead. That she knew for sure. The station doors swung inward.

The police sat them in a room and questioned them one by one. Sam cooperated knowing full well they’d never believe her. But they’d know soon enough. And when they did, they’d wish they didn’t.

When the interrogators were done with her, she was taken back to that dull waiting room. The only sign of green was a fake fern, the yellow light radiating off its shiny body. Both Matt and Jessica had been brought in, the latter already shipped off to the hospital. Matt sat apart from the rest of the group, ducking his head at the far end of the row of plastic chairs. After questioning, Emily had been taken to get her bite treated. But at least she got to see Matt alive and well beforehand. Their reunion was brief, but the relief painted clearly across their faces. Sam didn't know what Emily told him - but the look in Matt's eyes wasn't good. Chris had to wait for treatment, grimacing from the pain. His good leg jittered up and down. The police wanted to talk to him more about Josh. Ashley sat beside him, knees pulled to her chest. Her fingers twisted and twitched against the edges of the silver emergency blanket draped over her shoulders. Though the foil hid most of it, she was still covered in pig’s blood. The dim light shone painfully across her black eye.

Mike had been taken to the interrogation room the most out of all of them. He was in there now, being questioned for god knows how long. Sam couldn’t shake the awful feeling they were trying to pin everything on him. If they wouldn’t believe there were Wendigos - and really, who would? - they would want someone to blame. Telling them about the mines was the only way to prove Mike’s, everyone’s, innocence. Sam rubbed her brow, overwhelmed. Did she do the right thing?

The door to the interview room opened. By now Sam was well versed in the screeching sound its hinges made. She ran to the hall door and peaked through the checkered square window. Mike was being led by two officers, each holding an arm. His hands were cuffed at his front - the one with missing fingers still poorly bandaged. “Hey - wait!” Sam panicked. She jostled the knob and threw herself into the hall. “The hell’s going on?” she demanded.

The officers looked at her, then at each other. One raised his hand in a claming manner. “Ma’am, return to the waiting room-”

“Why’re you arresting him?” Sam shouted.

“Sam,” Mike said. He gave her a serious look. Then, for just a moment, faltered. A look of fear and vulnerability flickered across his eyes. “It’s Em. She-”

“That’s enough. Be quiet,” one of the officers asserted.

Mike clamped his mouth shut and gave Sam a hopeless look. The police led him down the hall. Sam followed for two steps, threw her hands out in frustration, and marched back down the hall.

…

_Chris_

_Police Station_

_09:07_

The police had at last exhausted all their questions. Chris sat there like a lump, doing his best to ignore the sharp pangs radiating from his throbbing ankle to his inflamed knee. “All right, he can go. Take 'em in for treatment once processing's done - not a moment before,” a muffled sounding voice instructed. "It'll be our asses if they want to ask more questions."

Chris jolted. “Wait, what about Josh? Where is he? What happened?” he asked. He saw his interrogator’s face tighten. A weight sank to the pit of his stomach. “Did you find him?” he croaked.

“We’re still looking,” the interrogator said. He nodded his head, and Chris was lifted by the elbow.

Upon returning to the waiting room, the first thing Chris saw was Sam restlessly pacing back and forth, shaking out her hands as if to dispel whatever was building up inside her. “Sam?” Chris hobbled in. “W-What happened? What’s wrong?”

Sam stopped pacing. She turned to Chris, spared a concerned look at his leg, and said, “They arrested Mike.”

“ _What_?” Chris showed his teeth. Ashley lifted her head. Matt scowled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“They think – I don’t know. They must think Mike’s the culprit,” Sam postulated.

“Why, _why_ would they think that?” Chris demanded. He scoffed, looked about as if for someone to speak out against.

“Because of what happened in the basement,” Sam said. “You know, with Emily?”

Realization sprang in Chris’s eyes. “Oh.” He frowned at the floor. “Oh geez. I mean what do they even know? _How_ do they even know?”

“I don’t know, Chris. Em must’ve reported him,” Sam said. She exhaled a stressed breath. “God, this is all so messed up.”

“You’re telling me,” Chris mumbled.

“Wait,” Ashley spoke up. The blanket slid off her shoulders as she got to her feet. “You guys. Are you saying Mike’s going to jail because we… we thought Em was…”

“I don’t know exactly. But I’m pretty sure they know Mike pointed a gun at her,” Sam said.

“Ohh.” Ashley immediately sat back down. “Oh no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She held her head in her hands. “This is all my fault.”

Chris felt his chest clench painfully. Ashley looked so small, and her voice choked like she was going to cry. “Ashley, no. It’s not.” Chris limped over to her. He sat down, pivoted towards her. “You were scared. We were - we were all scared.” Ashley didn’t stir from her curled cowering.

“Dammit. Mike didn’t _do_ anything,” Sam bit. She resumed pacing, only slightly less aggravated than before.

“What’s Em thinking?” Chris complained.

Sam stopped. “Well, how would you like it if someone you cared about pointed a gun at you?”

Ashley’s back stiffened. Chris lowered his gaze. The memory of holding a gun to his jaw, Ashley begging him to shoot her instead, the bang and burn of acrid gunpowder against his skin, resurfaced like a violent crash against still water. “Yeah, I-I wouldn’t like it very much,” he said bitterly.

Sam cringed and shook her head. “Uhhg. Sorry. With everything else going on, I just. I forgot,” she said.

“Lucky you,” Ashley murmured. She hugged her knees closer against herself.

Matt, whom Chris had momentarily forgotten about, jumped to his feet. He angrily marched forward. “Are you guys for real?” he demanded. His voice shook with all the brewing rage he’d been struggling to contain. Like a mountain just waiting to erupt.

“Matt,” Sam said, taking a step back as if to ground herself.

“You guys,” Matt jabbed a finger out, “were going to _kill_ Em. Not a psycho, not a-a whatever the hell that thing was. Emily. Your friend. You were going to murder her in cold blood. And for what?”

“Oh god,” Ashley whined. Chris stared at his knees.

“Matt, it wasn’t like that,” Sam protested.

“No.” Matt’s jabbing finger turned to Sam. “You were scared? I don’t give a shit. _Nothing_ gives you the right. Nothing justifies what you did to Emily! Screw Mike. You know what? Screw all of you. You should all fucking go to jail. That was _attempted murder_!”

Sam’s head dipped, her mouth opened to argue, but Ashley beat her to it. “No! We-we didn’t! Please, Matt-”

“Don’t ‘Matt’ me, Ashley,” Matt said venomously. Ashley clamped her mouth shut. “I’m done with you. All of you.” Matt cast them all a dark glare. He sat down roughly, causing the chair legs to shriek in protest. He clasped his hands between his knees and glowered at the tile.

Ashley withdrew, burying her face in her knees. Chris looked down at her, and swallowed thickly. What was he supposed to do? He wanted to pull her in – do everything he could to comfort her. He set a hand on her shoulder. It was trembling. No – his hand was trembling?

Sam finally sat down on the other side of Chris. She held perfectly still, breathing deeply. After a few moments, when the trembling subsided, Chris turned to her. A part of him was afraid to talk, afraid of what else would surface. But he had to know. “Sam. What happened to Josh?” he asked.

When Sam looked at him, brows bowed and eyes shining with moisture, he knew it wasn’t good. “Chris, I don’t-”

“Just tell me. Don’t worry. I can take it,” Chris said.

A quiet moment held between them. Sam bit her lip. “We found him. Down there in the mines,” she said. Her voice suddenly sounded so tired. “Completely out of his head,” she said.

“Yeah, he uh he wasn’t doing so great,” Chris affirmed. How had he never noticed before? How bad his best friend had gotten. Right under his nose.

Sam shook her head. “It was worse. Much worse. And-and there was this journal… Hannah’s writing,” she said.

Chris recoiled. “Wait, what?”

“Em was right. Hannah survived down there. Starving to death. Chris, she dug Beth up,” Sam said.

“Oh Jesus,” Chris said weakly.

“No… What’re you saying?” Ashley whimpered. Her voice sounded on the brink of crying. “That Hannah was… she was one of those things?”

“I don’t really want to say it,” Sam said tightly. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Chris shut his eyes and rubbed under his glasses, completely overwhelmed. That thing he saw – that killed the flamethrower guy? That he had to fend off with a fucking shotgun? Was that _Hannah_?

“Oh god,” Ashley whined. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my-”

“Ashley,” Chris said.

“But Chris-”

Chris raised a hand as if to settle her. “It’s okay-”

“It’s _not_ okay!” Ashley exploded. “How is any of this okay!?”

Chris winced. “Okay, it’s not okay. But we’re alive, aren’t we? And it’s-it’s over,” he said. Ashley fell silent. Chris looked her over, making sure she was keeping it together. A part of him considered just talking to Sam later. But a part of him also knew they may never willingly bring this up again. “Keep going,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“No,” Chris scoffed a humorless laugh, “but I need to know.”

Already on a roll, Sam didn’t hesitate to jump back into her account. “We split up. I climbed this rock wall out of the mines. Mike went back the way we came. With Josh.”

“So then what? Mike, he-he came back alone, didn’t he? What the hell happened?” Chris asked. Anxiety crawled up his chest, binding his throat.

“I don’t know. I next saw Mike back at the lodge. He said – god. He told me it got Josh.”

“What?” Chris croaked. “ _W_ _hat_ got him, Sam?”

Sam looked at him, brows prematurely knitted in concern. She’d already pegged his reaction, and that could only mean the worst. “The thing that was down there. The Wendigo,” Sam said.

Chris swallowed. “You mean Hannah,” he said emptily. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ashley shudder. “Wait. I mean assuming that _was_ actually Hannah, maybe she didn’t kill him?” he said. He lifted his head with a burst of excitement.

Sam tilted her head doubtfully. “Chris.”

“No, think about it. Why else would it take Josh from the shed all the way down to the mines and not kill him?” Chris pressed.

“It took Jess,” Sam pointed out. “And judging from how she looked, that thing tried pretty hard to kill her.”

Chris frowned and ducked his head. “I-I’m just saying. It’s possible.”

“I don’t know, Chris.” Sam shook her head. “I don’t think there was… there was anything of Hannah left. Not in that monster. What I do know is Josh never made it out of the mines. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s still down there. Or maybe he’s not. Either way, it can’t be good.” She let out a helpless, exhausted breath.

A solid ball of hopelessness sank in Chris’s chest. He had nothing more to say.

A small sob escaped Ashley, startling both of them. “Why? Why did this have to happen to us? To Beth and-and to Hannah? Are we being punished?”

“Ashley, don’t,” Chris pleaded. He put an arm around her hunched back. “Please stop.” His voice was weak, threatening to break. Sam’s hands clenched over her knees, knuckles shining white. Matt had completely hidden his face in his hands. The station fell quiet around them, save for the slight echo of Ashley’s sobs.


	2. Is This World of Ours Still Real?

_Matt_

_Hospital_

_10:37_

They were back in always sunny California. When the plane landed, everyone just… went home. At least those who didn’t need to be hospitalized for longer: Matt, Emily, Sam, and Ashley. They all left with their families without saying a word to anyone else. Matt watched them go, feeling his stomach twist. It was like kids being picked up from grade school. Ashley avoiding her dad's worried eyes. Sam hugging her crying parents, then holding up her hands to stop their clinging, insisting she was fine. Emily calmly marching at her parents' side. It was all so surreal.

In the car ride, Matt's parents kept eerily quiet. When they got home, and the door closed, and the shoes came off, that's when they fussed over him. His mom cried and grabbed his face. His dad demanded someone’s head. But Matt didn’t have a head to give. “It was an accident,” he lied. Because what else could he say? Tell the truth? Yeah, right. As if that would go over well.

Whereas everyone else had been released the next day, Chris home and Mike straight to a cell, Jessica’s severe injuries left her stuck in the hospital. A big one in LA, private room and all. Even when she healed, she’d have to undergo intensive physical therapy. Her back had been hurt in the fall. Matt didn’t know exactly how badly the damage was. As if that wasn't enough, she'd lost a lot of blood from multiple lacerations. Too much blood. Anger bubbled in Matt's chest. The cops shouldn’t have questioned her before getting her treatment.

He visited whenever he could. After seeing how roughed up she was in those mines, he felt compelled to check up on her. He still remembered a time when all of them - him, Jess, and Emily - were best friends, partying till the sun came up after every Homecoming game. So much had changed between then and now.

Propped against the stark white pillows, Jessica stirred restlessly. “Mike?” she called weakly. She blinked her eyes open and focused on Matt.

“Hey, Jess.” Matt forced a smile.

“Oh. Matt. You’re back.” Jessica returned the smile. She weakly lifted herself up to lean against the headrest.

“Easy there,” Matt warned. He held out a hand, ready to steady her.

“I’m fine,” Jessica said groggily. “How many days has it been? Is everyone home?”

"Everyone's home, Jess," Matt said.

Jessica sighed in relief. "And safe? They're all okay, right?"

"I..." Matt rubbed the back of his head. "Sure. I guess."

Jessica frowned, and her eyes dropped to the sheet covering her lap. "I hope so. With the lodge burning down, and... God I can't imagine what everyone's been through. I wish I could see everyone - no one else would get it, you know? - but I'm stuck here being spoon fed jello cups." Matt sat like a lump in his chair, saying nothing. Jessica looked up, visibly glimmering with both hope and fear. "Where's Mike?" she asked. "You didn't say."

“Yeah I wouldn’t worry about Mike anymore,” Matt bit.

“What?” Alarm sprung across Jessica’s blotched face. She pushed forward as much as she could. “What do you mean? Is he all right?”

Regret pooled into Matt's chest. What was he thinking, running his mouth like that? “He’s fine, Jess,” he said quickly. “He’s alive.”

Jessica gave him a long, searching look. “He is? He’s okay?” Her voice was so small. Matt nodded. “Oh thank fuck.” Jessica sighed and sank back into the pillows. “I was so worried. You know? He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I-I didn't get to see him. Where is he? Can he visit soon?”

Matt juggled internally between telling the truth and reassuring Jessica. If Jess knew what’d happened, wouldn't it only make things harder on her? But shouldn’t she know?

“Matt?” Jessica frowned. “What is it? Tell me,” she pressed.

"Listen, Jess..." Matt chewed his bottom lip.

All at once, everything came out. Mike holding a gun up to Emily’s head. Emily reporting it. The police arresting him. Jessica listened quietly, her eyes slowly growing bigger as he went on. “What?” she said softly. “I don’t understand. Why would Mike? Why would he do that?”

“Because they-” Matt hesitated. “They thought she would turn on them.”

“Wait, what?” Jessica muttered underneath his talking.

“It was the bite – Emily was bit by that thing. In the mines? And they thought she’d turn…”

“Thing? Turn? Turn into what?” Jessica’s brows knitted together in concentration. Her lips parted, as she no longer had enough focus to keep them together. And then, Matt could see it all click. The tension fell apart, her muscles came undone. "It..." She murmured so softly, Matt barely made the words out. A haunted shadow crossed over her face like the slow roll of a rain cloud. It made her cheeks look gaunt, her eyes dark and hallowed. "It was real?"

…

_Emily_

_Emily’s House_

_12:13_

"Em, I really think you should drop the charges."

Emily laughed into her phone. "Are you serious?"

"Look. Things got intense."

"Intense? Sam, he put a gun to my head!"

"But he didn't shoot-"

"He was going to!" Emily snapped. "I can't believe you, you were there! You saw what they were like! Uhg! _Why_ are you defending him?"

Sam was quiet on the other end of the phone. "None of us were acting like ourselves. You can't blame them for being scared," she argued.

"Oh yeah? Watch me," Emily seethed.

"Emily, wait-"

Emily pressed her thumb into the phone. She threw it on the bed and unleashed a liberated sigh. She had other things to worry about. Like school. She was already set to return to class within the week. There was no goddamn way she was letting all that bullshit get in the way of her life; her future law career. She resumed packing a new set of clothes, which she’d bought to replace the bags lost in the fire. A dull ache throbbed in her shoulder. The stitches itched. Emily rolled her shoulder and glared accusingly at it, daring it to act up again.

Her parents were pleased with her decision. Because she was strong, tough, they knew they didn’t need to worry. Emily flumped down her clothes and zipped up her suitcase. She stood back with a satisfied huff. “Yeah, that’s right,” she said to herself. Fuck anyone who stood in her way. She didn’t need them.

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted her. For a moment, Emily wondered who on earth it could be, when a voice came through, “Em? You there?”

“Oh. Matt. Of course I’m here,” Emily said. She opened the door to reveal her boyfriend. The only person who’d remained loyal to her after the others opted to shoot our her frontal lobe for _no good reason_. She'd thought Sam had her back, but even she ended up siding with the others. With  _Mike_ of all people. Whatever. Sam made her choice.

Matt smiled boyishly as he greeted her. "How're you holding up?" he asked.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Emily tested.

The smile vanished. “Just checking,” Matt said with a shrug.

“And you? You’re okay, right?” Emily asked, peering up at him. Matt gawped down at her, stricken in disbelief. Irritation flared in Emily's lungs, as though she could breathe it out as fire. Did he really have to look so surprised? “I asked you a question, not the answer to the universe,” she complained.

“Right – sorry. I’m fine. Thanks.” Matt’s smile returned.

Emily rallied it. “Well good. I was hoping you could use your big strong arms and help me move this,” she said.

“Ahh. So _that’s_ why you were so worried,” Matt said jokingly. "Don't want to lose your free mover."

Emily rolled her eyes and smiled amusedly. “Oh just do it, won’t you?”

“Anything for milady,” Matt said sarcastically. He lifted the two suitcases.

“Good. Cause I replaced everything I lost," Emily said coyly.

Matt perked up. "Really? The uh the lacy ones?"

"Why don't you find out yourself, big guy?” Emily purred.

Matt stumbled. He had to catch the suitcase against the doorframe. Emily bounced past him, a chipper skip to her step. She smiled back over her shoulder. “Meet you down in the car,” she said with a sly smile. So much had happened there, after all. It was the perfect way to bring them back to the way things were before - no, better than before. Matt stared at her with large eyes, and grinned. He chased after her as fast as the suitcase would allow.

The mood was great as Matt drove them to campus. It’d felt like forever since Emily had seen school, when in reality it’d only been a little over a week. Actually, she was feeling a little nervous about going. No doubt everyone and their dog would be curious to know what’d happened. She flipped the visor mirror open and checked her make-up, just to be sure nothing had smeared. “So what was the hold up this morning? You said you’d be here by eleven,” she said.

“Hm?” Matt glanced at her before returning his attention to the road. “Oh. Uh. I was visiting Jess. It went over a little.”

“Okay,” Emily said slowly. She narrowed her eyes at her reflection. “Any reason why?”

“Well I, I had to fill her in,” Matt explained.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Emily asked, snapping her head to him.

Matt let out an exasperated breath, always a sign their conversation was on a downhill path. “Em, she had no idea what was going on. With Mike, with what happened, with everyone.”

Emily scowled and crossed her arms. “Well who gives a blind rat’s ass?” she tested.

It was quiet for a while. Likely so Matt could gather his thoughts. He knew damn well he was walking a fine line here. “I do, Emily. Jess is my friend. They're our friends,” he said.

“Not anymore,” Emily said bitterly. "Or did you forget?" she tested. Jess had betrayed her when she fucked Mike behind her back. Ashley and Mike when they turned on her. Chris when he let them. Sam when she made excuses for them. Emily turned to the window. The reflection of her scowl glanced down, distorted at an angle.

“I’m just saying,” Matt tried. “After talking to Jess, I… Look. Everyone’s been through hell. Maybe we should cut them a little slack?”  

The very prospect caused something inside Emily to snap. She whirled around, twisting against her seatbelt. “Uh excuse me?” she demanded. “They almost _shot_ me. And you want me to cut them some slack? Are you serious, or just that empty headed?”

Matt winced. His eyes darted to her, pained and upset, before returning to the road. “No. You’re right.” A weight pulled his voice down. “Never mind.”

And that was that. Emily settled into her seat. The campus came into view, but she didn’t very much feel like reacting to it anymore.

…

_Sam_

_College Campus_

_07:15_

Everyone had been back in California for about a week. So far, only Sam, Chris, Emily, and Matt had swallowed their anxiety and returned to school. Chris was still limping around on his hurt leg - thankfully nothing had broken. Neither Emily nor Matt were talking to anyone but themselves. At least the whole experience had brought them closer.

Jessica was still in the hospital. Sam stopped by when she could. The poor girl was so scared. She’d jump at the slightest sound and freeze at the hint of movement. She reminded Sam of a groundhog. Probably was afraid of her own shadow, too.

Mike was in jail. Sam tried to visit him, but no one involved with the incident was allowed. The whole thing made her frustrated beyond belief. But there was nothing she could do. Emily was hell bent on retribution.

As for Ashley, physically she was mostly fine, barring her shiner. Bring her out in public, however, and she’d be jumping and cowering, bombarded by every little sound and sensation. She was trapped inside her own head. Pinned down by the anxiety trying so desperately to protect her. Chris was naturally concerned, but Sam was confident she just needed some time to process.

It wasn’t as though the world had settled for Sam. In fact, it was just the opposite. Everything felt so far away. And suddenly, real world problems didn’t feel very real at all. A statewide flu outbreak sending over a dozen children to the hospital with high fevers. Two dead in a shooting just a few cities away. A girl raped at a frat party on campus. Shown on the news, a morning announcement, a rally in the quad. Sam didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. None of it mattered. Not anymore.

“Weird to be back, huh?” Sam said to Chris. The two sat in the quad, not bothering to touch the lunches they bought.

“Yeah,” Chris laughed. He still did that, Sam noticed. But none of his laughs seemed to hold that same lighthearted humor anymore. “People are looking at me like Bigfoot just hobbled into class.”

“What, not used to the attention?” Sam teased.

The corner of Chris’s mouth quirked. “Better watch out. I got a bad boy rep now.”

Sam chuckled. Just for a moment, her chest felt a little lighter. Thank god she had Chris. Right now, there was no one else. At times like these, she used to talk with Josh… Great. The heavy feeling returned. She ducked her head, picked at the cap of her coffee cup. “You know, people are saying we uh were the ones who did something to Hannah and Beth,” she said.

Chris pressed his lips in a fine line. “Yeah, well. Fuck 'em, right?” he said. But his voice was strained. It bothered him, too. Of course it did. How could it not?

“And now Josh. To cover it up – whatever we supposedly did,” Sam continued. For some reason, she couldn’t shut up, though there was a nagging voice in her head telling her to stop.

“Let’s not. Let’s not talk about it. Okay?” Chris suggested tightly.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s best, huh?” Sam thought about sipping her coffee. But her stomach felt sick.

“I mean I don’t mean don’t _ever_ talk about it. You know?” Chris gestured clumsily with his hands.

“Know what?” Sam quirked a brow. “Not a single word of that made sense,” she said.

“I’m saying, Sam, sometimes it really does help to talk,” Chris said. He flustered and shifted in his seat. “You know, my parents are making me see someone.”

“What, like a shrink?” Sam snorted and wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, like a shrink.” Chris laughed and shook his head at himself. “I can’t really go into the whole, you know, mythological monster aspect of it. But it does help a little. It’s like it-it externalizes everything bottled up inside my head. Let’s me work out the knots.”

“Hm.” Sam nodded, conceding. “All right, I can see that.”

“I’m just saying. You don't have to be crazy to talk to someone. Maybe you should think about it.” Chris shrugged and sheepishly shook his head. “Ah never mind. I-I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sam assured. She risked a sip of her pleasantly warm coffee. Actually, it tasted pretty good. Slightly bitter, but creamy. It was soy, of course. No tortured cows for her. “That’s great it works for you. But I don’t need to talk to some patronizing psychoanalyst who won’t even believe me,” she said.

Chris nodded. “Fair enough,” he said.

“Besides. I’m fine.” Sam took another sip of her coffee. This time, her stomach churned in protest. Chris eyed her, saying nothing. Sam could practically feel the doubt burning off him.

They parted ways when it was time for class. This was Sam’s first time being back to Wildlife Biology. Before she could even step inside, she found herself surrounded in the hall by her old study group. Was old the right word? They’d met not a month ago, before everything happened. She liked to think of them as friends. But now when they approached her, it barely registered to Sam.

“Oh my god! Sam!”

“You’re back!”

“Tell us _everything_!”

“I…” Sam opened her mouth, but the three girls jumped in before she could get any words out.

“We heard all these things – like you blew up a house!”

“And that someone was murdered?”

“I thought they were threatened? That's what the news said.”

“No, someone actually _was_ murdered. Like before.”

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Is it true, then?”

“Hang on,” Sam raised her hands defensively, to block everything hurtling at her. “That wasn’t - it wasn’t like that.”

But the girls continued to talk over her, and their voices blended together, braided into needle-thin daggers of accusation. _You killed them. You left him. You let it happen. Murderers._

“Uh excuse me! Move your pigeon-toed asses off the road!” an all too familiar voice cut in. When Sam opened her eyes, she saw Emily’s classic bitch face scowling at the girls, who were struck into momentary silence.

"What's your deal?" a girl demanded.

"My deal is I'm trying to get to class," Emily said.

"Walk around," a girl suggested with raised brows.

Emily narrowed her eyes into thin slits. "Plain Jane's only get noticed in movies, you know. And you three don't have the assets to work through life on your backside. So you'd better spend less time gossip mongering and more time hitting the books."

"I'm sorry?" a girl scoffed. She looked ready to throw down, but the other two guided her away by the arm.

“C’mon. Let’s go. It’s not worth it.”

“She was involved too, wasn’t she?”

“There’s something seriously freaky going on.”

They hurried off down the hall. Sam breathed out in relief. “Did that really just happen?” she asked, shaking her head after the girls. "They were supposed to be the nice ones," she said wryly.

“People show their true colors during times like these,” Emily said with a matter-of-fact shrug.

“I'll say, Wonder Woman.” Sam smiled. “Thanks for the save.”

Emily crossed her arms, hip still popped from the altercation, and eyed Sam with a sidelong glance. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t call it a save. Those airheads were annoying. Simple as that." Her stance eased up a bit. "They have no clue what happened up there."

“Yeah.” Sam shut her eyes. “Annoying’s one way of putting it, I guess.”

"I'll see you around, Sam," Emily said. She left. Sam went to class. Her old study group sat apart from her. The world kept spinning, and life kept on moving forward.


	3. Never Left

_Ashley_

_Ashley’s House_

_18:52_

Having fair skin made it possible to count the veins running along the inner arm. Ashley hated veins. The mere thought of blood made her fingers and toes feel weak. She’d have to perform a little upset dance to make the feeling go away. But she sat in her room, the blue glow of her computer washing across her face, counting the veins on her wrist and palm. And her fingers would feel weak, and she’d shake them out.

The word document before her remained blank. The text cursor blinked slowly as though it were bored and struggling to keep its eyes open.  

Three sharp knocks resounded against her door. “Hey, hun. How’re you doing?” her dad’s voice came through.

Ashley shrugged her arms. “Yeah, fine,” she called back.

It was silent for a moment. “Okay. Well, dinner’s ready.”

“Not hungry!” Ashley said.

“Hun, you should really eat.”

“I’m fine,” Ashley insisted.

The door was quiet. “I’ll put some in the fridge for later.”

“Okay!” Ashley turned back to her computer. She heard the sound of footsteps tromping down the stairs. As her fingers hovered over the keys, a twinge of guilt sprung in her chest. “Thanks!” she called. No response. Great, now she felt like a brat.

Back to…

The whiteness of the open document was practically blinding.

Back to spacing out. Ashley held her forearm, running her hand up to her wrist and hand, and back down. Her heart raced, thundering throughout her ribcage. She could feel the wild pulse in her neck. The world was flying at her feet, and there was nothing she could use to ground herself. Her grip on her wrist tightened. Her nails dug into her skin, imprinting pinprick white crescents. The pain jolted her senses, yanked them back down as though they were loose balloons floating away. Ashley breathed in, and out.

More knocking at the door. Irritation flared out before she could control herself. “Dad, really! I don't want any!” she shouted.

“Wow, Ash. That's pretty inappropriate."

Ashley released her arm and swiveled around. “Oh – Chris?” She jumped up. Now her heart was really pounding. What the hell was Chris doing here? In her house!? She hurriedly pulled the door open.

Sure enough, Chris stood there, dressed in jeans and a tan sweater. “Hey,” he greeted, all nervous smiles and soft eyes.

It really was him. Standing in her hall. Ashley did a double take. “Chris, wha-what are you doing here? How are you here?”

“Your dad let me in. Just for the record.” Chris dipped his head sheepishly. “I texted, but…”

Ashley glanced back at the bedside table where her phone rested. “Oh. Yeah, uh, I turned it off,” she said. She absently scratched the corner of her jaw.

“Ah. Mystery solved.” Chris pursed his lips. “Can I come in? I mean if-if that's all right with you.”

“Yeah. No, that's fine.” Ashley stood aside. “Come on in.” She raised an arm in welcome, and let it slap back against her side.

Chris awkwardly bobbed his head as he stepped inside. Ashley moved to shut the door. Thinking of her dad, she left it open a crack. Oh god, her room wasn’t too messy, was it? Did she remember to pick up her clothes? Were there too many books and notes scattered around?

But Chris didn’t seem to care. After a quick scope of the room, he fixed his attention on her. And that’s exactly where Ashley’s insecurities jumped – she was just in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, after all. Her lazy lounge clothes for days when no one saw her. Which was every day, these days.

“Sit wherever,” Ashley said. She sat on the edge of the bed, the purple and white comforter crumpled from when she lazily threw it into place that morning.

Chris took the desk chair. Suddenly, Ashley felt extremely grateful the word document was blank. “Nice place you got,” Chris said.

“Home sweet home,” Ashley said with a forced smile.

“So uh sorry to drop in unannounced like this.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly very unsure about all this.

“You know what. It’s totally cool,” Ashley said. She puffed out a breath. “Honestly, I was kinda going crazy by myself.” She tugged her sleeves down, hoping the little crescents were gone by now.

Chris leaned forward, brows knitted in concern. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Ashley's lips twisted in a frown. Okay? What did okay even mean anymore? “Yeah. I mean, I think so,” she said.

“And your eye? Does it. Does it hurt?” Chris continued to give her that worried puppy dog look.

That’s right – Ashley wasn’t wearing make-up. Her eye was healing, but still dark, now with ugly green and yellow blotches serving as a testament to the hit she took. “No, it's fine,” she waved it off. “Just annoying. You know, having to cover it when I go out. As good as I can.”

A frown tugged at Chris’s mouth. His voice fell a little, but he held her with a serious look. “Is that why you haven’t come to school?” he asked.

So that’s what this mystery visit was about. The anxiety began to rise. “Chris, I…” Ashley trailed off and chewed her lip.

“What? You what?” Chris pressed.

“I just can’t. Okay? Not right now. I can’t go to school and have everything be normal,” Ashley said. She tugged urgently at her sleeve. “I mean how am I supposed to? How are any of us? Just ‘oh, welcome back from your fieldtrip to murder mountain! Stat 101 test next week!’” She threw out her hands exaggeratedly.

Any other time, Chris would’ve cracked a smile and jumped on board the silly joke train with her. When he didn’t, that’s when Ashley felt something really was wrong. It _was_ wrong. All of it. Nothing was back to normal. No one was.

“Ashley, you just have to. You have to take a first step, or you won’t get anywhere,” Chris said.

A primal sort of fear sprang out. Ashley felt the urge to run. But where to? What good would that do? The idea of this – how she was now – lasting forever? That was just too terrifying to swallow. “I don’t know,” she said smally.

“I’m not saying it’ll be fine right away. I’m still… Every day is hard. You know?” Chris looked down. “But I – both Sam and I – we miss you, Ash. We want you to come back.”

“Oh Chris,” Ashley sighed. In truth, that really touched her. But she just didn’t know if that was enough. And that made her feel horribly guilty. Because the support of her friends should’ve been all she needed. “I miss you guys, too,” she murmured.

“I’m right here, Ash.” Chris’s voice wavered. Ashley’s eyes stung. “If you need to talk. You know I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Ashley murmured. “I mean I don’t know if I can talk about it. But thank you.”

“You don’t have to. But it might help,” Chris pressed.

“I know I just. I don’t even want to think about it. I wish I could just forget everything,” Ashley sighed heavily.

“Ashley,” Chris said quietly.

Ashley raised her head. “I know that’s not fair to, you know, to Hannah and Beth and…” Her eyes flickered off to the side. “But I just. Every night, it happens all over again.” Her speech quickened, smashing her words together. “With the saw and Josh and the… the thing in the mines and oh god, Chris.” Her large green eyes pleaded with him. “Did it even happen?”

“Ash, I.” Chris shook his head. A deep frown set across his features. His shoulders slumped. “I wish I could tell you it didn’t.”

A barrage of guilt thundered down over Ashley. “Oh. Oh god. Chris. I’m sorry,” she said. “Here I am complaining and I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you with everything and. And are you okay?” She leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees.

Chris wouldn’t meet her eye. “Don’t worry about me,” he said.

God, he sounded terrible. Maybe he really wasn’t anymore okay that she was? Just because he was going back to school, didn’t mean he’d healed anymore than her. It just meant they had different methods of dealing. Or failing to deal. “But Chris-” Ashley protested.

Chris held up a hand. “I’m - I’ll be okay,” he insisted.

A silence grew between them. Ashley couldn’t suppress the wry smile that popped across her face. “Guess neither of us wants to think about it, huh?”

Chris mirrored the smile, albeit more grimly. “Guess not,” he agreed.

Ashley’s smile melted into a more sincere one. “Thank you,” she said.

Chris blinked in surprise. “For what?” he asked.

Suddenly nervous, Ashley twisted her fingers. “For worrying.” She dipped her head. “And being right. Again. It really does help to talk a little.”

“Ashley, of course I worry,” Chris said. “I care about you.” Ashley’s fingers snagged, and her eyes snapped up in shock. Chris winced. “Uh a-anyway. You’ll think about coming back to school, right?”

Dazed, Ashley could only nod. She wanted to say more, say anything, but it wouldn’t come out. She sort of wanted to touch him, make sure he was really there. Was that weird?

“Okay. I'll get out of your hair.” Chris stood up. He awkwardly patted the front of his legs. "I-I’ll text you? Or call you or something. See you.” He turned to leave.

No, wait. Ashley didn’t want to go back to staring down the white abyss of a blank document. She sprang up and marched over, snapping out before she could think and grabbing him around the arm. Chris looked down at her, brows raised. “What? What is it?” he asked.

“Can you stay?” Ashley blurted out. Then, immediately, she couldn’t believe she’d just said that. Was she an idiot? She’d been told before, countless times by the other girls. Asking a guy to stay over was like telling him anything could happen. Granted, this _was_ Chris, her best friend. But could she call them just friends anymore? After everything… But she couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t even handle herself right now. Chris deserved better than someone who couldn't even leave her room without freaking out.

“What?” Chris asked airily. Well yeah, of course he’d be in disbelief. That came out of nowhere!

“I just. I really don’t want to be alone right and I…” Ashley frowned. She was being selfish. She let go of Chris’s arm and stepped back. “I just feel a _lot_ calmer with you here,” she said.

More gawping from Chris. That was all she got.

Ashley was beginning to feel like a mega idiot. “Augh. Never mind. I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.” She lowered her chin and set a hand to her brow.

“No. No, you’re not,” Chris said. He turned to fully face her. “You’re scared, right? If it makes you feel better, t-then of course I’ll stay.”

Ashley cautioned a glance. “Really? You don’t have to,” she added. Though she hoped he wouldn’t change his mind.

“I know I don't have to. I want to,” Chris said earnestly. He smiled sheepishly. “Honestly, I’m pretty freaked out myself.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Ashley breathed out in relief. The incessant drumming of her heart began to level out. “Thank you. Really. I feel so much better now.”

…

_Mines_

_23:34_

Flashlight beams slashed the darkness etched under the jagged rocks and wood structures. The rescue team had spent a full week combing the mountain for the last missing person.

A figure stumbled in front of the light. An arm lifted to shield their eyes.

“Visual on a survivor! We’ve got a live one down here!”

“Copy that. We’ll bring him out the west side.”

“Hey! It’s all right now. You’re safe.”

The two officers moved in. Their lights illuminated the figure – a boy, disoriented and squinting against the sudden brightness. “What – who’s there? Who’s…?” The boy’s eyes rolled back, and he dropped with a crash of dirt.


	4. Fantasy and Blame

_Chris_

_Ashley’s House_

_01:04_

For the first time in what felt like ages, Chris experienced marginal happiness. He could feel Ashley’s warm shoulder press against his as they sat side by side, leaning against the bed’s headrest, pillows propped for the comfort of their backs. A laptop rested between them, shared on both their laps. The light changed with each different cut of the movie. The built-in speakers crackled, muffled as though the movie was playing over an old radio. They were watching something stupid, something to pass the time. Chris hardly paid any attention.

“You know, I’ve been trying to write a thing,” Ashley said. Her voice was beginning to dip sleepily. And she sank into the pillows bit by bit as she lost the will to fight.

“That's uh eloquently put for a writer," Chris teased.

“Oh shush,” Ashley scolded. “Speaking and writing are two very different things.”

“Mm-hm. Is that what you tell yourself? That Hemingway wrote many 'things'?” Chris asked.

His arm got a light slap for that, as Ashley let out an insistent, "They are!"

Chris couldn’t help but smile. “Well, what’s it about?” he asked.

“Oh. It’s not much. I barely even have an outline. Like not even,” Ashley rambled.

Something important was happening in the movie, so they stopped to pay attention for awhile.

“Tell me what you’ve got,” Chris urged.

Ashley stayed silent. For a moment, Chris thought she might’ve fallen asleep. But when he looked over, he caught the blue light reflecting off her eyes. “Don’t laugh, okay?” she said.

The corner of Chris’s mouth preemptively twitched. “Is there a reason to?”

“I mean it, Chris! Don’t you dare!” Ashley narrowed her eyes.

“What? It could be a comedy," Chris argued.

"It's not." Ashley fixed him with a stern pout.

"Okay, I won’t. I swear,” Chris said. An amused twinge laced his promise.

Ashley peered at him suspiciously.

“Stick a needle in my eye?” Chris added hopefully.

With a roll of her eyes, Ashley looked back to the laptop. “I guess that's good enough. Basically, the story's about a girl who has these dreams every night."

“How old? Like a little girl?”

“Yeah. I dunno exactly, ten or eleven maybe? Anyway, the dreams start out fun and happy. Adventures with all her imaginary friends and cheesy bad guys that never win."

“So a Saturday morning special. Got it.” Chris waited for more.

"Yeah, complete with a moral about sharing." Ashley smiled. “But then the dreams start getting, you know, bad. Vivid. Out of control,” she listed. She paused to shift. She emerged from the pillow quicksand, sitting straighter and gesturing as she went on. “They start to feel like the real world.”

“ _Are_ they real?” Chris asked.

“Well that’s…" Ashley lifted her chin higher. "I'm keeping it intentionally ambiguous,” she asserted.

“Okay, but do they affect real life? Like if she does something in a dream, it happens for real?” Chris asked.

“Oh. No. But that's a neat idea,” Ashley mused. She swept her hand in a circular motion. "Real life affects the dreams. All the problems she faces and the people who antagonize her start showing up.”

"The message being...?" Chris looked at her expectantly.

Ashley pursed her lips and stared at the ceiling. "I dunno. I just want to show how things like... I mean how innocence gets broken down by the real world. When kids have to grow up suddenly and lose their imagination. And-and how sad that is."

Chris made a show of grimacing. “Can’t escape reality, kids,” he joked. Deep down, his mind couldn't help but wander to the parties they'd all had in the lodge, swathed in white like a snow globe. Dancing and drinking. Watching horror movies in the dark. None the wiser.

Excitement glimmered in Ashley's eyes, beneath the gleam of the computer screen. Frankly, it was refreshing to see. “Well it all sounds pretty swanky, Dickens. Can I read it?" Chris set a hand to his chest and spoke pompously, "I’ll only give you feedback of the highest order.”

“Hah I'm sure. Maybe when I actually have something.” Ashley pursed her lips to suppress a smile. When she settled back down – and Chris might’ve been imagining this – she leaned a little into his shoulder.

A sliver of hope slipped through like light bleeding in from dusty rafters. They were falling back into their old rhythm again. Talking about their interests, bouncing ideas. Admittedly, that might’ve been a bad thing had it not been for that something that made it different. That new layer of closeness. Chris often thought about what'd happened between them that night. A silver lining in all the trauma they'd endured. But here they were, in the now, with the elusive thing called 'the right time' nowhere in sight.

With the way Ashley was, still reeling and trying to make sense of everything, how could he add to that?

The movie went on for another five minutes or so before Ashley’s eyelids began to flutter shut, clearly too heavy to keep open any longer. “Okay over there, sleepyhead?” Chris teased.

Ashley grumbled intelligibly. Okay – that was cute, but it signaled it was time to call it a night.

Chris lifted the laptop and set it at the foot of the bed. “Okaaay. That’s enough garbage watching for one night." He tapped the space bar to pause the movie, slid off the bed, and got to his feet. "Go to bed; you're passing out. And uh don't worry. I’ll crash on a couch downstairs.”

“Stay here,” Ashley murmured defiantly.

Chris stared at her blankly. "Sorry?" he said.

“It’s stupid, but I’m scared I’ll get freaked out.” Ashley forced her eyes open for a moment to give him a serious look, before they shut. She let out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s really stupid, isn’t it?”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I'm sure the floor's softer than it looks,” Chris said. He reached for one of the pillows. “Mind if I steal this?”

“What? No. There’s plenty of room,” Ashley said. She adjusted herself so she was lying on her side, her back put to him. “See? So much room," she sighed sleepily.

Chris remained frozen mid pillow grab. “You mean... the bed? I’m uh I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Ash,” he stammered.

“What’re you talking about?” Ashley muffled. There was so much exasperation dripping from her voice, it was almost comical. "I'm not gonna make you sleep on the freaking _floor_."

“It’s just that…” Chris trailed off, at a loss. "I don’t want to... make you uncomfortable,” he tried again to explain himself. What an uphill battle that was.

“Uhh why would I be?” Ashley demanded. “Obviously I trust you, Chris." Her words quieted. "I mean. After all that. I trust you more than anyone."

Chris thought of Josh. Betrayed. Taunting him back in the shed. The last time he ever saw him alive. _“You’re fucking pathetic, Christopher!”_

What was that? Guilt? Shame? Some kind of cruel mix of the two? Whatever it was, it was stabbing him right in the gut. He sat on the edge of the bed. Judging by Ashley’s deep breathing, she’d fallen fast asleep. He could probably sneak downstairs. But if she woke up, say from a nightmare, and he was gone… No, he definitely had to be there. He wanted to. But at the same time, he didn't.

Maybe the reason he couldn't find the right time wasn't out of concern for Ashley at all. Maybe he really was just a coward. What was it again – the sound of never kissing Ashley?

An intelligible murmur from the girl in question jolted him from his thoughts.

What the hell was he thinking? Chris rubbed his brow. This wasn't right. He cared about Ashley, and she trusted him. That was a _good_ thing. There was no way in hell he was going to fuck that up.

All he had to do – all that mattered – was be there for Ashley.

…

_Josh_

_Hospital_

_03:01_

_"Ohh like we did with the little army dudes!"_

_"Let's go Jo-osh! Let's go!"_

_"We're here for you. Whatever you need."_

_"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, man! I-"_

_"Chris. I'm so scared..."_

_"Josh! No! What did you do!?"_

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I never wanted this.”

Everything was white. Leather straps chained his wrists to the bed frame. They burned as though coated in acid. Josh twisted and turned feverishly, staring blearily up at the ceiling.

_"So we can be together, Josh. Forever."_

“Please, no… It’s not my fault. I didn’t want this. Hannah. Hannah!”

“Calm down, Joshua. You're safe now.”

“W-What! Who’s there?” Josh snapped his head to the source of the intrusive voice. Dr. Hill stood at his bedside, arms folded behind his back. The dim light cause shadows to slash across his form, accentuating his wrinkles and jowls. “What’re you… What’re you doing here?” Josh swallowed, his throat dry. “I thought you left.”

Dr. Hill’s face constricted painfully. “No. I never left. You left. To play that game of yours on your friends.” His brows compressed compellingly. “And look what it’s done to you.”

“Go away. Leave me alone,” Josh said weakly. He did his best to pull off a glare. But the analyst's eyes just filled with pity.

“Not this time.” Dr. Hill took a step closer. “This time, I’m going to help you. I’m going to make it right. Do you understand? I’m going to help you rid yourself of this problem. This sickness. But in order for me to do that - Joshua - you _have_ to let me _in_.”

…

_Chris_

_Ashley’s House_

_06:23_

The phone buzzed aggressively. The vibrations sent it dancing circles across the end table. Chris grumbled and groggily reached out for it. He was struck by a moment of confusion – this definitely wasn’t his room. He looked around, seeing Ashley’s blurry form beside him. She’d turned to face him, a hand splayed near her chin, mouth hanging unabashedly open as she slept.

Oh right – the phone. Chris dragged it off the table and answered it. “Hello?” he groaned.

“Chris! Holy shit!” Sam’s voice, desperate and frantic, blared through.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on. Sam?” Chris raised and lowered his hand as if that could calm her.

“I-I don’t know where to start. I mean. God. Mrs. Washington just called me, and I…”

Chris forced his eyes open. “Wait, what? Slow down. What happened?” he asked. “Josh’s mom called?” He blindly grabbed for his glasses. He flapped his wrist until the temples flew out on their own, and clumsily slid them onto his face.

“I don’t know the full story,” Sam said. “But the police – they’ve been investigating Blackwood Pines all this time.”

“Chris?” Ashley grumbled. She opened her eyes to thin slits and lifted her head.

“Hold on-” Chris spared her a look before turning his attention back to the phone. “Sam?”

“Chris, I’m trying to tell you! It’s Josh!” Sam took a shaky breath. “They found him!”

“What?” Chris said airily.

“They found him! Last night! In the mines!”

The air seemed to turn thick. At least, there was a pressure in his ears. The phone slipped from his hand, flopping to the bed.

Ashley pushed herself up. She stretched one arm up and rubbed at her eyes. “Chris, who is that? What’s going on?” she asked.

“I… uh…” Chris looked around, found his phone, and put it back to his ear.

“…you there?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I… What?” Chris said stupidly. “I mean – they found him. What, is he – is he alive? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. I think so. I mean he’s definitely alive,” Sam said. “Not sure if you can call it okay.”

“Jesus. Can we – can we see him?” Chris asked.

“I don’t think so,” Sam’s voice dropped. “Not right now. Look, I promise I’ll call you as soon as I know more. I just… God, he’s alive, Chris. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Yeah.” Chris pushed himself up further. “Yeah, no. Thank you, Sam. Talk to you soon.” The phone clicked. He ended the call, and let his hand drop.

“Chris? What was that about?” Ashley asked. She stifled a yawn against the back of her hand, and gave him an anxious look.

“Sam, she uh…” Chris laughed in disbelief. “She told me they found Josh.”

“What?” Ashley’s eyes popped impressively wide.

“The police. They found him in the mines.” Chris felt a grin threatening to break free. Everything felt so light and relieving. Like he’d shrugged off a fifty pound camping pack on the crux of a trip.

“Oh my god! Is he... is he alive?” Ashley asked, her voice lowered to a fearful hush.

“Yeah! I mean I don’t know how bad he is, but he’s alive.” The giddiness bled away. Reality crept in. Chris’s gaze averted to the bed.

“Chris, that’s…” Ashley frowned. “Hey.” She scooched closer, pulling herself across the bed. “Hey, are you okay?”

Chris let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t know, Ash. Honestly? I don’t know what to think or-or feel. Josh is my best friend.” His voice turned small. “And I left him there. It’s my fault he ended up in the mines.” Josh's mom didn't call him, she called Sam. There was a reason for that. The last part came out a scared mumble, "What if he blames me?"

Ashley's expression twisted with worry. “You didn’t - hey. You didn't do anything wrong,” she said firmly. “You tried everything. Hell, you risked your life to save him! Even after everything he did to us! To you!”

“I know,” Chris mumbled. “I know, but you don’t get it. That shouldn’t matter. I should’ve been there.”

“You don’t owe Josh anything,” Ashley said coldly.

Chris looked up, shocked to hear such an icy tone from her. Ashley glared darkly off to the side. “Ashley, I didn’t even notice how bad he was,” Chris murmured. “I spent all that time with him. The most out of anyone, and I – I couldn’t even… I kept telling myself he was fine. I wanted him to be fine.”

In a flash, Ashley’s cold demeanor disappeared. She peered at him in concern and moved closer. The comforter rustled as she crawled out from it. “Chris, that’s not fair. You couldn’t have noticed. No one could’ve. I mean how were you supposed to know he was off his meds? You’re not his shrink - obviously they didn’t even know!” She reached out and lightly touched his shoulder. Chris ducked his head. Something about the contact unlocked a crippling wave of grief. He struggled to hold it back. Apparently his efforts weren’t enough, as Ashley proceeded to wrap her arms around him. Any other time – any other – that would’ve just about made his heart explode with glee. “Please stop beating yourself up,” she said. Her voice wavered, threatening to whine.

Did he really look bad enough to warrant this? Chris felt his eyes prick and burn. Tears were threatening to break through – the last think he wanted to do was have a fucking meltdown. He ducked his head against Ashley shoulder, and reached his arms around her back. He held her loosely at first, feeling her tremble. But when his body let out a shiver, he tightly pulled her closer. “I’m really glad I stayed,” he murmured. His voice cracked, but it didn’t matter.

“Me too,” Ashley murmured back. She rested her cheek against his head and shut her eyes. “I'm really glad you're here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. A lot of Chris and Ashley. Everyone else is sleeping (/trying to), dammit! That's my excuse, I'm sticking with it.
> 
> We'll return you to your regularly scheduled ensemble next chapter.


	5. This is Just How I Cope

_Matt_

_Hospital_

_07:49_

Propped up against white pillows, Jessica stared with big, unhappy eyes. "Sam visited. I didn't realize you guys weren't speaking anymore," she said.

Guilt needled down Matt's chest. Sam. He'd only learnt she'd defended Emily _after_ he'd blown up at them in the police station. How was he supposed to know? He didn't know how to talk to her, and she wasn't exactly knocking on his doorstep. Not that he could blame her. Then there was Ashley, one of his best friends since he was little. Always playing two-man tag at the park while their parents talked and sipped mysterious 'adult drinks' from the cooler. In middle school, they went through their different phases and their different groups of friends, but Ash never let that get between them. Cliques and boundaries meant nothing to her. She was a fly on the wall, and he could always just be himself. There was so much history between them all. Enough to fill a hundred books. Thousands of words that'd burnt away when the lodge went up in flame.

"I don't like it," he said wearily. Now, every time he looked at Ashley - or Mike or Chris - he saw Emily's scared face, calling to him for help back at the collapsed radio tower, and he burned with anger. "But I'm having a pretty tough time looking past what they almost did to Em," he added heavily.

Jessica scoffed, the puff of her breath flipping her bangs. "Yeah, but can you blame them?" 

Matt narrowed his eyes. " _What_?" he said.

"Don't look at me like that. It was stupid. I know it was stupid," Jessica said. She tilted her head, regarding him seriously. "But that thing? That... that monster?" A blank sheet fell over her face, and her eyes went somewhere far away. "It was so, so fast an-and strong. And it could've torn us _all_ to shreds. The idea of being trapped with one in a room is just." She shuddered, blinking back into the room. "If I was Mike, I'd want to keep everyone safe. Even if that meant... I mean I might've done the unthinkable."

"Seriously?" Matt asked. His brows rose in disbelief.

Jessica gave a little shrug. "Any of us, really. But he didn't. He was scared out of his mind - and everyone acts like an idiot when they're scared, don't pretend you don't - but he didn't." A smile ghosted her lips. Matt ducked his head in thought. He had to admit - Jess had a point there. But it didn't change the facts. Mike was a finger squeeze away from murder. From killing his girlfriend. "You know what I bet?" Jessica said.

Drawn from his thoughts, Matt looked up. "What?" he asked.

"I bet they feel _really_ awful about it," Jessica said. She made a motion as though putting her foot down. The sheets shifted with the movement of her leg.

"They should," Matt insisted bitingly.

"Like how we felt after that stupid prank," Jessica said, her voice growing quiet. Matt didn't have anything to counter with. He remembered holding the camera stick, thinking how hilarious it would be to tease Hannah about it later. He wanted to argue - this was _different_. This hadn't been an accident. Jessica's eyes fluttered and drooped. She stifled a yawn. "Sorry - it's these pain killers."

"Don't worry about it," Matt assured. 

"Makes me drowsy," Jessica mumbled. She settled back and shut her eyes. She was quiet for awhile. "I just wish we could go back to the way we were before."

Matt lifted his head, listening as her breathing softened. "Yeah. Me too, Jess," he said quietly. After a moment, he got up and left. It was best to let her rest. Rather, it was the only thing he could do for her.

...

_Mike_

_Police Station_

_08:12_

Living hell had been on that mountain that night. Mike had busted his ass trying to keep everyone safe. For fuck’s sake, he lost two fingers for it. And here he was being treated like a goddamn criminal. Before the investigation in the mines, the police had done everything in their power to pin the whole fiasco on him. By now they knew something else had happened, though they would never acknowledge it was anything close to a Wendigo. They dubbed it rabid animal attacks; that the bad air in the mines had made some sick with radiation poisoning. All bullshit. Mike wasn’t a biologist or a veterinarian or anything of the sort, but even he knew none of their excuses made any sense.

When the police finally revealed to him that Jess was alive, that was when the adrenaline raging like rapids through Mike's nerves finally came to a stop. He'd collapsed upon himself in that dark interrogation room, burying his hands in his head, unable to think anything but the same thought. _Jess was alive_ _. She was alive._ The only words he could utter were pure nonsense; the interrogators couldn't get anything out of him for awhile. "Oh thank fuck. She's alive. Oh fuck. Thank fuckin' Christ. I thought she - toasted fuck jelly sandwich. I thought she was dead." 

Only after that did the nightmare finally come to a close. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. The cops still wanted his head for attempted murder. He sat in a cell, ducked over his knees, lost in thought. The memory of Emily, curled up and begging for her life, replayed itself on loop. It was necessary. Guilt gnawed at his insides. He had to keep everyone safe. He deserved this. He didn’t do anything!

The cell door shrieked open. A guard faced his side, showcasing a round belly sticking out from his beltline. Handcuffs jangled from his hip. “Come on, kid.” He beckoned him over. “Your dad made bail.”

Mike blinked up at the guard, and kept his seat. "Good - that's good. If the prison gig's a bust, you should try stand-up," he said.

The guard's features tightened sternly. His first two fingers flipped twice. "No joke. Time to go."

The process drifted by in a haze. Before Mike knew it, he was released and walking out from the gated fence to his dad. Mr. Munroe was a classy guy with three divorcees. He wore a light gray suit, jacket unopened, and kept his hands casually tucked away in his trouser pockets. With slicked back salt and pepper hair, a sharp nose, dark eyes, and a dimpled smile swathed in charm, it was no wonder success swooned right into his lap. The guy looked like James Bond.

“Didn’t expect to see you, old man,” Mike commented.

Mr. Munroe pursed his lips and gave a little nod – yeah, that was fair. He raised an arm, hand hovered over his son’s shoulder. “Turns out having a son in jail is worse than a suspectat home.”

“Love you too, pops,” Mike said with a shake of his head. As he passed his father, their shoulders brushed with a rustle of their jackets.

"Wait. Mike," Mr. Munroe said, removing a hand from his pocket.

Through all the doubt built up over the years, a small nagging curiosity stopped Mike in his tracks. "What?" he asked shortly.

"Boy." Mr. Munroe gestured out, indicating his son. His upper lip lifted and nose wrinkled in abhorrence. "The hell you'd do to your hand?"

Mike gave his father a long look. "Rat trap," he said. He barreled off faster than before, away from his father. Not that it mattered. They were going the same place.

It was weird to be home. Weird being the fucking understatement of the year. Mike had gotten the hell out of Dodge and moved to the dorms straight after graduating high school. He hadn’t been back since. So he was surprised to find his room untouched, if not a little dusty. He even still had a bottle of whiskey he’d stashed in the closet.

Now that he was out, he could visit Jess. She’d been through so much. Learning she was alive after thinking she’d been… How long had she been down in those mines? How long had he left her there? Fuck. What had he put her through? And who the hell was he? An eight-fingered fuckup facing an aggravated assault and attempted murder charge. Mike meticulously lined the neck of the bottle against his desk, and hammered the top with this fist. The cap popped off and clattered noisily to the wood floor.

Mike brought to the bottle to his lips and took a deep, long swig. The whiskey burned down his throat. His eyes erupted. And a pleasant fog rolled in.

…

_Ashley_

_Ashley’s House_

_09:22_

Ashley woke up feeling confused, groggy, and just a little bit smothered. That was quickly explained by the pair of arms wrapped around her and the leg slung over her ankles. When she opened her eyes, she saw the ribbed collar of a brown sweater. Attached to Chris – fast asleep with his square glasses askew. Waking up and seeing him there provided more comfort than hiding out in her room or under her covers ever had. As warm and safe as it was, she couldn't help but feel a little bit awkward. She attempted to wriggle free from the dead weight of Chris's arm, but the motion caused him to stir, so she froze in place. What were they, a puzzle ring? They must’ve passed out like this after Sam called to deliver her big news bomb.

So Josh was really alive? Ashley wasn’t totally sure how to process that. She felt relieved, for one thing. Maybe even happy. Not that any of that undid how furious she was - or disturbed by what he'd done. And there was also this creeping unease lurking in the back of her mind. Like something was going to reach out and grab hold of her ankles. Maybe she just always felt like that these days.

“Chris. Hey, Chris,” Ashley said with a hushed voice. She tentatively gave his shoulder a little shake. “Chris, wake up!” She shook harder.

Chris groaned, and his brows pressed together. “What?” he complained.

“It’s like nine-thirty. Don’t you have class?” Ashley said.

Chris blearily opened his eyes, and grimaced against the harsh morning light. When he caught sight of Ashley, up close and peering, he jolted, and his limbs stiffened. “Uhh.... Y-Yeah. Here. Um. Sorry-” He awkwardly detangled and withdrew his arms and sat up. He flushed and refused to look her way. Ashley bit back a smile. It was cute the way he acted bashful - a little confusing sometimes - but cute. Her heart pattered. It had to be obvious. They weren't acting like just friends anymore. 

"Chris? I just wanted to..." She sat on her knees and stared down at the frumpled gray fabric of her sweatpants. Everything - she - was so messed up right now. Was going through the whole dating dance even possible for her? Maybe trying to label it was too much. Maybe it was okay to just let it be.

"What is it?" Chris asked, perking up despite the residing grogginess.

"Nothing." Ashley waved out a hand. "Are you going to class?"

Chris grumbled at the thought. “I’ll just skip my morning lesson.” He rubbed his face, further knocking his glasses around.

“Can you do that?” Ashley asked doubtfully.

“Sure I can.” Chris fixed his glasses. He looked her over. Ashley stared back, feeling a little self conscious. No doubt her hair was a mess and her eyes puffy with sleep. “How long do you take to get ready?” Chris asked.

“I don’t know. Like twenty minutes?” Ashley guessed. She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I think you should come to school with me,” Chris said. For a moment, he looked down.

Ashley reeled. “Chris, I don’t-”

“Now I’m not trying to pressure you,” Chris added. He held out a hand. “Just hear me out.” Ashley pursed her lips and waited. “It’s like ripping off a band-aid. I think the longer you wait to do it, the harder it’s gonna be.”

Ashley frowned. She couldn’t exactly argue there. “Dammit,” she swore under her breath.

Chris recoiled. “What?”

Ashley threw out her hands. “Why do you always have to ruin everything with your logic?” She heaved a big, defeated sigh.

Chris smiled. “So you’ll go?”

“Yes, I’ll go,” Ashley said, though she didn’t feel very happy about it. “I mean I can’t hide out here watching Netflix forever, right?”

“You could. But eventually the well of Buffy re-runs will dry up, and you’ll be stuck with teen mom documentaries.”

Okay, that was a horrifying reality. Ashley definitely, definitely needed to get out.

It felt good to see Chris’s beat-up Camry in the driveway. It was a scuffed red car from the 90’s he’d proudly nabbed off craigslist. He’d boasted it was reliable and gas efficient. After Josh dubbed it a granny car, he didn't brag about it anymore. But Ashley loved it. She thought it was cute, and seeing it in the parking lot meant Chris would probably show up in the library.

The drive to campus was quiet. Ashley was too nervous to speak. So she fidgeted with her seatbelt. Chris turned the radio on, which helped a little.  

When they pulled into the parking lot, Ashley’s lungs refused to work. Chris waited awhile, one hand resting on the steering wheel. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Ashley nodded. The muscles in her neck constricted. “I’m fine. It’s just. I know what people have been saying. You know, about what happened.”

"What?" Chris blinked. "How?"

"They say it online," Ashley said quietly.

"Ashley-" Chris rubbed his jaw, a sign of exasperation. "Don't go on the internet."

"Kinda hard not to," Ashley muttered. "It's not just Facebook, it's everywhere. The campus site, my emails, my phone."

“Just ignore them, then. They don’t know anything,” Chris said.

“No, I know! But god! Do they really think all those awful things?” Ashley’s voice wavered miserably.

“Maybe some of them.” Chris’s fingers drummed against the wheel. Irritation prickled out with his words. “Does it really matter?” he tested.

Ashley opened her mouth, then shut it. “No,” she resigned. “I mean – it shouldn’t.”

They got out of the car. The doors clapped shut. As they approached the quad, Ashley felt as though she were walking on air. Everything around her, the studious power walkers, the hipsters playing hacky sack in the lawn, the chatting stragglers, it all felt so far away. The sights around her blurred. Even the noises were muffled and screeched like a metallic echo, as though she were submerged underwater. Sam burst through the middle of it all, hurrying over to them. All of Ashley's senses funneled to her. She grabbed Ashley’s forearms, smiling with knitted brows. “Ash! Chris told me he was dragging you here. I’m glad you made it!”

“Well I said ‘encourage’, not ‘drag’,” Chris argued.

“Sam. Hi,” Ashley breathed out. She found herself smiling along. As Sam pulled her forward, she felt herself finally stepping into the quad.

…

_Emily_

_College Campus_

_11:45_

Coffee was Emily’s power kick. Since getting back, she hadn’t gone a day without it. As she took her first sip, legs crossed atop a stone bench in the quad, she already felt her mood improve.

“Gotta say. It’s weird eating lunch like this again.”

The coffee might as well have turned ice cold. Emily just about spit it back into her cup. Recovering with a hasty cough, she whipped around towards the source of the voice. The same voice that sent a spike of anger shooting into her core being.

“After everything, I’m going double vegan.”

Sam, Ashley, and Chris walked side by side towards the parking lot, no doubt heading somewhere for lunch. Emily wrinkled her nose in disgust. They weren’t close enough to see her, not unless they happened to look her way, but she could hear what they were saying. And that was certain to spoil anyone’s mood.

“How’s that work?” Chris asked. “Can’t eat grass that grows from dead things?”

“Chris, we’ve been over this. You _know_ I don’t eat grass!” Sam complained.

“Well what else is there?” Chris teased.

"You know it doesn't jump straight from cheeseburgers to grass, right?" Sam said, practically dripping with incredulity.

“Ugh. The thought of a cheeseburger makes me feel pretty squicked out right now,” Ashley said, hugging her middle.

“Blasphemy,” Chris said. He moved ahead and turned to them, walking backwards with two accusatory fingers held in the air.  “Do you two know how un-American you sound right now?”

“Ever consider maybe that's a good a thing?” Sam challenged.

“Great. I know what I’m getting you for Christmas, then,” Chris said decidedly.

Sam reproached him. “What?” she asked carefully.

A finger flitted out. “The final component to complete your transformation - wooden clogs,” Chris said matter-of-factly.

Sam rolled her eyes, Ashley laughed, and their conversation carried away. Emily glared after them until they disappeared around the corner of the campus building. Why the hell where they so chipper? Making jokes and - and Sam and Chris were practically babysitting Ashley. Last she heard, bitch couldn’t even show her face in public. Weak. They were just pathetically clinging to each other. Emily turned back to her coffee. She wasn’t like that. _She_ was the one who went through hell, and she didn’t need to be coddled one bit. They could go hold hands and frolic in a field of daisy chains - on _fire_ - for all she cared.

…

_Ashley_

_College Campus_

_15:12_

Classes were finally over. Ashley didn’t know how much more of the stares and hushed whisperings she could take. Head ducked, she made a beeline straight for the parking lot. Halfway across the quad, she caught sight of a familiar face waiting by the gymnasium.

A swathe of emotions twisted in her chest like a whirlpool. Guilt. Fear. Sorrow. It sucked, because Ashley immediately knew this wasn’t one of those things she could ignore. So, she took a deep breath and approached, calling out only when she got close, “Em!”

Emily whipped around. At the sight of Ashley, her nose wrinkled and upper lip lifted in a sneer. “What do _you_ want?”

The words buffeted like a cold front. So much so that Ashley nearly turned tail. Instead, she pulled at her sleeve and grounded herself. “Just checking in.” She pursed her lips, not sure whether to smile. “How are you?” The words came out hesitant. She could only hope they sounded sincere.

One of Emily’s brows slowly lifted towards her hairline. “I’m sorry. Do you think you can just waltz over here and ask me that?”

Ashley touched her hair. “Em-”

“No. You lost that right,” Emily said. She waved an incredulous arm. “I mean _my god_ what’d you think was going to happen?”

Ashley opened her mouth. Before she could utter a sound, the door to the gym flew out. Her eyes slid to see, and she gawped as Matt walked through. “Hey, Em. Sorry I – Ashley?” He recoiled when he spotted her.

“She was just leaving,” Emily said.

A frustrated breath escaped Ashley. There was no backing down now, Matt be damned. “I just. I wanted to tell you how _sorry_ I am, Em. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Not good enough,” Emily asserted.

“I-” Ashley bit her lip. She thought for a desperate moment. “What can I do?” she asked.

“What?” Emily scoffed at her.

Ashley drew up her arms. “What can I do to make it right? Tell me. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Emily crossed her arms, popped her hip, and fluttered her eyes like the quick beating of wings. “You can choke on a cucumber."

“Em,” Matt said. Emily’s brown eyes flashed to him – stay _out_ of this – and he quieted.

Ashley flinched as though struck. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"Stick to what you know," Emily said, admiring her nails. " _I_ know a leopard can't change its spots. And you've _certainly_ shows yours."

Ashley took a step back. Her hand slipped from her hair and clenched in a small fist. “You know you’re not exactly innocent in all this, either!” she said, feeling her voice lift as though riding hot air.

That earned Emily's attention, taking the form of a deadlocked glare. She did that head bob – the one she did when she was really serious – and Ashley felt a flash of fear. “And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” she challenged.

“Uh!” Ashley threw out a hand. “You _pushed_ me!” She marched forward, bent a little forward as though ready to pounce. “Right into the door! While we were running for our lives! Don’t think I forgot; those things could’ve _killed_ me! God! That is _so_ much worse!”

Matt reeled in shock, looking between the two. “Is that true?” he asked.

Emily ignored him. Her eyes flicked up and down, taking in Ashley’s angry form. Then she scoffed lightly and dismissively looked away. “Too bad they didn’t do us any favors.”

Ashley’s brows furrowed in an angry pinch. A wave of fury rose up in her throat, and then – it vanished. And she was left with nothing but a wave of grief and a residing feeling of numb defeat. She waved out a hand as though it were a white flag, and turned away. As she stomped off, she heard them talking.

“What the hell, Em?” Matt said.

“I'm sorry? Did you forget what they did to me?” Emily said sharply.

“No, of course not! But that doesn’t give you an excuse to act like that!”

“And why the hell not? Compared to what they pulled, this is _n_ _ice_! Do you expect me to just forgive them and pretend everything’s hunky dory?”

“No one’s saying that! That’s your choice, Em! I'm not even sure _I_ could forgive them. But what you just did?”

“What? What’d I just do, Matt?” Emily’s challenging voice grew louder.

Matt took a breath. When he next spoke, it was a great deal calmer. “Ash came up to you, trying to be the bigger person and own up to her mistake. Throwing it back in her face was pretty low.”

Emily shot out an angry laugh. “Way to go, Matthew! Congratulations for jumping on the little victim Ashley wagon! Should I present you your white knight badge now, or do you wanna wait till the fucking ceremony?”

When she got close, Ashley darted around the back of the building. Their voices were too far to make out – either that or they’d stopped talking. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths. Nothing felt real. The chilly gray sky. The trees hugging the campus. The rough brick against her back. Everything was spinning. The earth seemed to wave at her feet. Her legs trembled from the effort of maintaining balance. She swallowed, struggling for some semblance of control. What Emily was saying? It wasn't true. She _wasn’t_ a victim.

She had her wrist in a vice grip, squeezing so the bones creaked together. Her fingers slid under her sleeve. Her nails dug into her skin. “Ah!” Ashley winced at the sharp pricks. Warmth rushed through her arm, beneath her nails. The jolt snapped her breathing out of whack. She shut her eyes, and breathed deeply. Calmly. In, and out. With a shaky sigh, the shivers melted away, leaving behind a relieved weakness washing over her limbs.

Her phone buzzed. Ashley fumbled for it, unlocked it, opened her new message from Chris, “ _hey where are you??"_

She hastily replied, “ _b right there_ ” and sent it. After one more deep breath, she pushed away from the cold wall. When she got to the parking lot and into Chris’s car, she greeted him with a smile.

“Hey. How’d it go?” Chris fixed her with an earnest look.

The seatbelt clicked as Ashley buckled up. “Um. Pretty good,” she said with a nod. “You know. All things considered.”


	6. The Frays Come Undone

_Emily_

_Rental House_

_21:38_

Electronic music reverberated throughout the house. The booming subwoofers seemed to shake the foundation with every skin deep tremor. Any attempt at conversation quickly devolved to desperate shouting over the noise.

As she walked by the granite kitchen counter, Emily plucked a drink from the array of red Solo cups. People were coming and going, snatching them up and taking them deeper into the house. A lanky boy in a loose sleeveless shirt and beanie was at work mixing them. Dark shades hid his no doubt reddened eyes. He danced bouncily as he worked, laughing boisterously with two of his friends.

Emily marched through the house, taking in the noise, the crowd, the flashing lights. Fellow classmates and veteran party goers greeted her exuberantly. Their eyes lit up as they smiled, one boy practically crawled over his friends for the chance to talk to her. Emily soaked it all in like a sunbath. _This_ was the real world. And she owned it.

“He-ey! Em! Good to see you!” a sporty boy in a leather jacket greeted. Brown hair was shaved down to a buzz cut and light stubble peppered his jaw. He had thick limbs and a square face. A sturdy guy built for football – and lacking in the brains department to boot.

Emily donned her best smile. “Chad! Hey!” she greeted. She moseyed on over. “Just the person I was hoping to bump into.”

“Well…” Chad laughed and danced around, clearly a bit buzzed. “Bump away.”

Emily pretended to find that amusing. She lightly touched Chad’s arm, causing him to grin cockily, and took a light sip of her drink. A pleasant fog began to settle over her. Confidence burst in her chest like the slamming of an assertive fist. She was strong, tough, invincible. And she felt damn happy about it.

…

_Sam_

_Greenlit Park_

_21:55_

Sam didn’t know what exactly possessed her to hop in her truck and drive to Greenlit. The park was small. Just a field, a playground, some trees, and a place to skate. The winter chill bit at the exposed skin of her face. Only a few stumpy path lights lit the way. She could barely see in the pitch dark. But she used to come here all the time. She new the steps like the back of her hand. The park was just a ten-minute walk away from the Washington’s house, after all.

Hannah loved the swings. She’d float back and forth, leaning so her hair draped and she could stare up at the stars. She’d spend hours talking and ranting about life. Usually that involved boys. Sam would listen and offer advice. Not that Hannah ever took it.

Chains squeaked as Sam twisted side to side on the swing. She gripped the cold iron and shivered as it touched through her cotton gloves. She looked to her right. Hannah’s swing was empty. Nothing remained of her but a tired slump from years of being depended upon.

After the accident, Josh would often call Sam to meet her here. He claimed he wasn’t comfortable talking at home. He said he was only comfortable talking to her. They’d walk around, sometimes lean against the trees. They never gave the swings so much as a glance. Too many memories.

Sam dug the toe of her shoe into the woodchips. Assuming Josh was treated and released… and came back home… what would he talk about? What would he say if he were here right now? Sam thought she understood him, once. Clearly she was wrong.

A trench began to form beneath Sam’s shoe. Till she reached the bottom of the shallow layer of chips. Sam was at a loss. How much of the Josh she knew was even real? How much of Hannah? Of anyone? Sam stopped moving her foot. She shivered and rubbed her arms. And realized she didn’t know much of anything at all.  

…

_Emily_

_Rental House_

_00:15_

Emily danced, arms reaching up above her head, hair flying, back sliding up against Chad’s chest. Heat smothered her like sweltering steam from a powerful oven. Sweat clung beneath her clothes, but it didn’t matter. She was rocking it, right in the bull’s eye of the zone.

And then – she was back in the kitchen. The music seemed to have slowed down and deepened, as though resounding through an underwater cavern. Emily blearily looked around in a daze. The counters were so high up. Was she sitting down? The tile felt cool against her legs. The drinkmixer pointed at her whilst laughing towards his buddies. His skinny arms seemed stretched - elongated. Irritation flared like a whip across Emily’s chest. “Don’t point at me – get out of my face!” she snapped.

The lanky boy danced backwards, cracking up as he mock cowered. Emily was distantly aware of his lips moving, but she heard nothing.

“Hey! Em! What happened? You all right?” Chad’s large face loomed before her. Way too close! It looked like a freaking pumpkin!

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Emily insisted. Everything was getting blurry… like she was looking through a rainy window. She blinked to focus her vision. It didn’t work.

Chad frowned. His brows knitted in anger. “What the hell?” he demanded. He threw his arms out like a gorilla.

The noise was so crushing, it was getting hard to think. "Cool it, you big lug," Emily said. She frowned bemusedly. Just what was he getting so worked up about?

“Stop yelling!” Chad snapped. “Jesus!” He backed away. He shook his head down at her. “Man, you are so full of it.”

“Excuse me?” Emily leapt to her feet. Her knees wobbled, but she made them hold. “And what’re you, pumpkin head? You’re lucky I even bothered _talking_ to your stocky ass!”

Chad shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Sorry to break it to you, Chad! Being big boned isn't a thing!” Emily said.

Chad scowled terribly. He jammed a finger at her. “You’re a goddamn _mess_ ,” he seethed.

“And you’re a waste of my time,” Emily snipped. She waved out her hand dismissively. “I hope you enjoyed our little dance, Chad. Cause you aren’t getting near _this_ ever again!” She marched away. Her legs threatened to wobble, but she _made_ them walk.

“Get some fucking rehab!” Chad called after her. “Crazy bitch…”

Emily stumbled down the street. Headlights passed by, blinding her every time and driving spikes of pain into her skull. Now that no one was there to see, she didn’t have to focus quite so hard on walking straight. But what the hell was going on? She didn’t think she’d drunk that much! Since when couldn't she hold her booze?

Two bright beams washed over her. “Ugh!” Emily swatted at the light. “Go around!” she cried.

“Em?”

Emily stopped. She squinted through the light. A truck, which had been following along, rolled up to her. The lights moved on, allowing her to see. “Sam,” she said in surprise.

Sam leaned out the window, arm pinned to the outer door. She frowned up at Emily. “What’re you doing out here?” she asked.

“Hah.” Emily shrugged her arms out. They slapped back down at her sides. “Isn't that the question of the night.”

“Well whatever the reason, let me give you a ride,” Sam said.

“I don’t need a ride. I'm perfectly capable of walking down a simple street,” Emily said. She flipped her hair and marched down the street. She landed on her ankle wrong and stumbled. “Shit!”

The truck rolled up to her again. “Emily, come on,” Sam urged. “I’m not just gonna leave you out here in the middle of the night!”

Emily chewed her bottom lip. She couldn’t _think_ straight, much less walk straight. She waved out a hand. “Fine,” she sighed. "Since you're so darn adamant about it." She walked around the front of the truck, slapping a palm to the hood for support, and fumbled with the door handle. She fell into the seat and pulled the door with a metal clang. "God - this piece of junk is like the inside of a cookie tin," she grumbled. As she fixed her position to appear more upright, she felt Sam’s gaze boring into her. “ _What_?” she hissed.

“Seatbelt,” Sam said. "My cookie tin, my rules."

Emily rubbed her brow. “Jesus Christ,” she grumbled. She fumbled with the clasp till it clicked. “There. Happy?”

Sam stared at her. Her brows bowed in concern. “Not really,” she said. “What the hell happened?”

“Just take me home,” Emily said. She rested her head back and shut her eyes. “I swear to god - if you try to lecture me, I’m James Bonding right out of this car.”

“Noted,” Sam said. The clutch creaked as she shifted gears and started off down the road. She drove in silence for a few minutes. Occasionally she’d glance over at Emily as though checking her for something. It was seriously annoying.

“Oh my god. What?” Emily snapped, sick of the awkward tension.

Sam set her with an even side-stare. She pulled over, and shifted to park.

“What’re you doing? We aren’t here yet, are we?” Emily asked. She squinted out the window. Why couldn’t she recognize anything? "Why'd you stop?" she demanded.

“So you don't James Bond roll into traffic," Sam explained.

Emily scowled and crossed her arms. She raised a challenging brow. "Well I hope you can talk fast, cause I am _seconds_ from ditching you," she said.

"Okay. Em? I’m _really_ worried about you,” Sam said.

Emily’s lips parted. She gave Sam a wide-eyed look.

“It’s just – you’ve been so distant. And I can’t even begin to imagine trying to process all this alone,” Sam said.

“Gee, I wonder why!” Emily exclaimed sarcastically. “Did _you_ have to look down the barrel of a gun with the guy you _loved_ standing on the other side?!”

Sam’s fingers clenched around the wheel. She looked forward, eyes fixed in a faraway look. “We’ve all felt betrayed,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s time to move on.”

Emily’s mouth twisted in a scowl. “No – you do not get to decide that for me,” she asserted. An enraged tremor shook her voice. “I am just – I've had it up to here with people telling me what I should do!”

“All right. Fine.” Sam dipped her head. “I just want everyone to be all right.” She moved to shift the car out of park.

Emily tsked and rolled her eyes to the passenger window. “Now you’re starting to sound like Josh,” she bit.

Sam’s hand froze on the clutch.

Emily whipped around, the seatbelt burning against her jacket. “No, Sam, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” Sam said. She started the truck. “Don’t worry about it.” She rolled back onto the road.

Emily pressed her lips together in a fine line. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.

Sam smiled reassuringly, only serving to make her feel worse. “It’s okay, Em. Really. I just want things to work out between everyone.”

“Yeah. Don’t count on it,” Emily huffed. She rubbed her pounding head. Was it getting worse? “I… Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam’s voice peaked in concern.

“Nothing,” Emily said quickly. “Just. Thank you, Sam.”

“For what? Pulling over?” Sam half laughed.

“For giving a shit.” Emily shrugged. Her eyes felt heavy. A spike of panic shot through her. She shook herself in an attempt to clear the unsettled feeling away. “It’s nice to know _someone_ cares,” she continued.

"Well..." Sam was quiet for awhile. “Don’t count out Matt,” she said.

“Uhh. Sam?” Emily’s voice turned small.

“He really cares about you. You know he defended you? Back at the police station. It was actually pretty intense,” Sam said.

“Sam. Wait. I. Uuhh…”

Panic returned to Sam’s voice. “Em? Emily? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no, I…” The road behind the windshield turned dark. "Sam, turn your lights on," she chided.

"They are on," Sam said. Her eyes rallied from her to the road. "Emily?"

"Ugh..." Emily pressed a hand over her aching eyes. “I think I… I need to go to the hospital.”

Blackness swallowed up the road like fire devouring paper.


End file.
